Hello!
Okay, I also write because I crave validation. CRAVE. And want money. Your money. Please? And, and, and secretly hope that one day Robert Smith from The Cure will read one of my newsletters and smile. You know. The usual stuff. Anyway:
Those are pictures on the floor of the Arts Centre in Norwich. They're now on the walls. As I mentioned last month, they're running an
exhibition of Galley Beggar cover designs until mid-April, featuring art from
Maddison Graphic,
Neil Gower,
Open Air Design and
Niki Medlik. If you're in Norwich, please go along and have a look - and say hello to the lovely people at the Arts Centre too. You may even see me there from time to time. If you do, I promise not to try to talk about
modernism.
That's a picture from the Essex Book Festival who were kind enough to host an event featuring Paul Ewen, DJ Taylor, Jonathan Gibbs and myself. They did some wonderful readings, we all answered questions about publishing and then disappeared into the night leaving behind a holy mess of confusion, broken chairs, smashed bottles and destruction. No! That's not right. It was great. What's more, we'll be appearing again - with a few additions, hopefully, at Greenwich in May. It would be very nice to see you there.
Elsewhere, we've been working on this:
Francis is coming out in paperback. Randall will be following him soon too. I gushed about our other forthcoming books last month - and oh boy, I'll be gushing again. But I'll spare you for now. Except to say, you know,
first edition. Instead, a bit of background on what publishers do when they're not making books: they talk about making books and drink lagoons of coffee. Next month this activity reaches its frenzied, bladder-straining climax at the London Book Fair. You might have read about this in Francis Plug. It's where all the publishers in the land gather in a gigantic Ikea style warehouse, complain about Amazon, sell each other books and book ideas and suck down hot liquid caffeine. I won't be going as, frankly, I'm too maladjusted to appear in public too often, especially when there's money changing hands. But Elly will be there representing Galley Beggar Press, rampaging through the halls like Attila The Hun and, if we're lucky, doing some deals. Please say hello to her if you're there too. And if you do see Francis, please help him. Don't just call security. Meanwhile, if you aren't there, you're probably making the right decision - but wish us luck!
Talking of luck, Michael Stewart the Bluemoose author got a cracking review for his new book Cafe Assassin in The Daily Mail last week. The Hate say it's: "A needle-sharp portrait of a man bent on revenge... told in burning, ferocious prose." I tell you this partly because I like Bluemoose - but also because:
This is a new story from Michael. He was also our first ever Singles Club author. If you've enjoyed anything from the Singles Club in the past, you owe it to this fella. So please
buy this book. And you know, get hold of a copy because it's a great story too. In it, God has some explaining to do. You'd think that a conversation in front of a live audience would be the perfect place to do it. After all, here in the UK we had so much success with our glorious leaders talking to Jeremy Paxman just last night. So much. But, funnily enough, He Himself (God, not Paxman - there is a difference) thinks otherwise...
Right. Enough. Often, I end this letter with a mention of Jeff Bezos and his company Amazon and the way they're passing through publishing like the bloody fux, destroying all the useful organs and pumping them out sphincterwards. Often, you may have had
the impression I'm joking. After all, Jeff Bezos can't be that bad can he?
Well, just look at this employment contract for Amazon warehouse workers. They're making people sign 18-month no competes - meaning, essentially they can't even get a job as bad as the one they hated at amazon and, you know, do trivial stuff like feed their families for more than a year after having the joy of working for pyscho-baldie. What possible good does that do anyone? Words have actually failed me... So I guess I better stop typing. Thanks for reading though - more next month.
Fondly,
Sam
PS
As usual, I'm also going to use the end of the newsletter for a few more adverts, where you can safely ignore them, or kindly indulge me, depending on your fancy:
Firstly, please join The Singles Club so we can pay writers to write. Here's the blurb:
We have a fantastic new subscription system set up for our Singles Club so that you now only have to make one payment to get hold of 12 stories. But how to go through the ins and outs of paypal payment systems without boring the dirtbox off you, I don't know. Probably the best thing to do is to head over to the relevant page on our site, where I've tried to give a brief, but to the point explanation, and to take it from there. The important things to know are that:
(1) Subscribing saves you the trouble of going to the site every month to get your fix of superb ebook literature – we'll just email you the files every month.
(2) Subscribing (so long as enough people do it) will enable us to start giving our authors money up front on for each story. Yes! We are going to pay people to write short stories. It's like the golden days of the 1920s. Only they'll be in electronic book format instead of Strand magazine… Anyway! You get the idea. This is a mighty fine way to keep authors doing what they do best – entertaining you.
(3) It costs £12 a year, or £1 a month, or less than a meal in Pizza Express. Unless you have a voucher.
Secondly, please be our friend! Become a Galley Buddy. It's a good deal for us, and a great deal for you.
Thirdly, to donate to Galley Beggar Press and earn yet more of our gratitude, click here.
Fourthly, go on, buy a postcard set. They're lovely:
Fifthly, thanks for reading write down to the bottom. There's no prize, but I sure do like you. Today's bonus information is that David Cameron is a fucking dinner-plate-faced dong.
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